45. （HONOR）ary
JAE
45
Keep busy. Keep busy. Keep busy.
I barked orders at my board members, the echo of my own voice ricocheting off the sterile walls of the conference room. The wedding had been called off, the PR nightmare was unfolding, and Verena hadn’t replied. Auntie was frail. The only thing keeping me sane was work. Keep busy. Focus on the tasks. Ignore the pain.
“Jae, the stockholders are concerned about the recent developments,” one of the board members started.
“I don’t care about their concerns,” I snapped. “We have a product launch in two weeks. All efforts should be focused on that.”
I could feel their eyes on me, heavy with judgment and silent disapproval. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. The tangled web of my life was unraveling at the seams, and all I could do was cling to the one thing I could control—work.
My PR person looked like she wanted to throttle me. Her frustration was a tangible presence in the room. “Jae, this is a disaster. We need to release a statement about the wedding.”
“Draft something,” I said curtly. “I’ll approve it later. Right now, we need to concentrate on what matters.”
Keep busy. Keep busy.
I looked down at the reports in front of me, the figures swimming before my eyes. Revenue projections, market strategies, growth potentials—all meaningless numbers that were supposed to anchor me. I had to stay focused. The world outside this room could fall apart, but in here, I could maintain the illusion of control.
“Jae,” another board member ventured cautiously, “perhaps we should postpone the launch. Given the circumstances?—”
“No,” I cut in sharply. “We stay the course. Delays cost money. We need to keep moving forward.”
Keep busy. Keep busy.
My phone buzzed with incoming messages, each one a potential landmine. I ignored them. If I stopped to read, to engage with the outside world, the fragile dam I had built to contain my emotions would burst. I couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not ever.
“There’s also the issue with the marketing campaign,” someone else chimed in. “We need your input on the new direction.”
“Send me the proposals,” I replied, my tone clipped. “I’ll review them by the end of the day.”
Keep busy. Keep busy.
I forced myself to focus on the next quarter’s targets, outlining our goals with a precision that felt like grasping at straws. The words came out mechanically, devoid of the passion I usually brought to these meetings. But it didn’t matter. Passion was a luxury I couldn’t afford right now.
“Q2 is crucial,” I continued, my voice steady. “We need to hit our targets or we risk losing investor confidence. I expect everyone to double their efforts.”
They nodded, jotting down notes, but their eyes betrayed their uncertainty. They were used to my intensity, but this was different. This was desperation masquerading as determination.
Keep busy. Keep busy.
I glanced at the clock, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Every second felt like an eternity. I had to keep going, keep pushing forward. It was the only way to drown out the noise, the turmoil that threatened to consume me.
The door swung open. The sudden motion startled everyone, and I looked up, my breath catching in my throat.
Verena walked in.
She looked exactly like she did when she used to work for me—tight pencil skirt hugging her curves, her heels clicking against the polished floor with a confidence that demanded attention. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, revealing the graceful lines of her neck. She held an iPad with an air of authority, her movements sharp and precise.
The room fell silent, confusion etched on every face. But all I could see was her.
My heart twisted painfully at the sight of her. It hurt, a deep, gut-wrenching ache. I longed for her, missed her presence, her laughter, the way she could calm the storm inside me. I wanted to reach out, to pull her into my arms and apologize for everything, but I was frozen, stuck in a web of my own making.
Her eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of us. I saw the resolve in her gaze. But there was something else there now—something harder, more unyielding. She was here on a mission.
“Thanks for coming to my meeting, everyone,” she said, her voice cool and authoritative.
Each word cut through the silence. The board members exchanged bewildered glances, their confusion evident. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Every detail of her appearance was a painful reminder of what I had lost. The way her skirt clung to her hips, the confident stride of her heels, the steely resolve in her eyes—it was all too much, too overwhelming.
“Good to see you all,” Verena continued. “I appreciate you making time for this on such short notice.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room, meeting each board member’s eyes with an intensity that brooked no argument. “Today, we’re going to address some immediate changes that need to happen within this company. Changes that will ensure we move forward efficiently and effectively.”
There was a murmur of confusion, a rustling of papers as the board members tried to make sense of what was happening. I felt a knot tightening in my stomach, a mix of anger and something I couldn’t quite name. Longing, perhaps. Or regret.
“Verena,” one of the board members ventured, his voice tentative, “what exactly is going on here?”
She turned to him, her expression calm but unyielding. “What’s going on is that we need to reorganize our priorities. Effective immediately, Jae will be taking a leave of absence to spend time with his aunt. In his stead, I will be overseeing operations.”
Her announcement hung in the air. The room buzzed with disbelief.
“Excuse me?” another board member interjected, his tone incredulous. “On whose authority?”
“On my authority,” Verena replied smoothly. “I’ve worked with this company for ten years. I know its ins and outs better than anyone here. And right now, Jae needs to step away, and I’m here to make sure this transition is as seamless as possible.”
She turned her attention back to the rest of the room. “I’ve already prepared a detailed schedule for the next four months,” she said, tapping on her iPad. “Each of you will receive your roles and responsibilities via email within the hour. Any deviations will not be tolerated.”
She began delegating tasks, stripping them away from me with an efficiency that was both impressive and heartbreaking. It was like watching a master sculptor, each command shaping the future of my company, leaving me with nothing to hold onto.
One of the board members tried to protest, but she cut him off with a look that could freeze fire. “Two years ago, I stood in line at Christmas for four hours to get your son that limited edition toy.”
The man paled and sank back into his chair, his defiance crumbling. She turned her gaze to another member, her eyes narrowing to slits. “And you, if you even think about disagreeing, I’ll make sure your wife knows about your mistress.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
“Jae is taking four months off to spend time with his dying aunt, who is like his mother. If anyone has a problem with that, remember, I was with this company for ten years and have enough dirt on all of you to ruin you.”
She walked over to me, each step echoing in the stillness of the room, her presence overwhelming. “I have changed all your passwords. Canceled all your appointments. Changed the locks on everything. You can’t access the building. Your phone is turned off. You have nothing. No one.”
She stalked up to me, her face inches from mine, her eyes blazing with a fire that both scared and thrilled me. “You will be staying with my mother. She got you an air mattress. I hope your billionaire sensibilities can handle it.”
“What?” I stammered, trying to process everything. “What about you?”
She smiled, but it was a smile that held no warmth. “Laura is watching our cat, and I’ll be staying at your house in the Hamptons.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving the room in stunned silence. For the first time in what felt like forever, I had nothing to keep me busy. Nothing to focus on. Just the emptiness she left behind and the realization that I needed to face the pain I had been so desperately trying to avoid.
Keep busy. Keep busy.
But now, there was nothing left to distract me. It was time to face my reality.